


Broken Strings

by Whispering_Imp



Category: British Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Emotional, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Outburst, argument
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 14:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whispering_Imp/pseuds/Whispering_Imp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The trust Tom put into his relationship snapped with the finding of his lover's writings on AO3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Strings

**Author's Note:**

> Mr. Hiddleston's performance of anger, pain, and resulting outbursts always frightens me. Like he explained many times in interviews, the camera captures nothing but the truth. And the truth is, everyone could have their moments. Even though I hate the idea of Tom being capable of these negative reactions, I can't help but wonder what was pulled from reality for him to channel the most convincing of performances onto the big screen.

Tom waved an open plum at the laptop on the kitchen table. “What, is this?”

The syllables came from deep within his chest, sounding as heavy as an impending storm. His lean frame seemed taller and darker than ever. His thin lips, pursed into one fine line, were pale as winter crescent. His cheekbones were made sharper by the light of the PC. An air of forbidding radiated off the man.

On the screen of the PC, the browser was open. The webpage, alas, was one _achieveofourown.org_. The white simplicity of the page's design glared in the dark room. Far away, thunder rolled. Rain came down heavily outside. Yet the downpour was no match to the tears rolling down her face at this moment. She stared blankly at the back of her hands, tucked neatly in her lap. She was silent. What can she say in such situation? Denial was unthinkable. Confession? Too painful.

The silence stretched.

“Do I have to ask you again?” Danger rolled off his every syllable.

“That... That was a long time ago, Tom.” She whispered. “We hadn't met then. It was… it was just the need to write.”

It had been three years since her last post on AO3. That was months before she met Tom, two seasons before they became a couple. She would have deleted the whole thing, wiped out all evidence of her embarrassing activities, had it not slipped her mind altogether. She had done nothing but decent writing ever since she met the actor. And boy, were they a match made in heaven! For years now, whenever they were under the same roof, they were never not in each other’s company. They can not get enough of eachother. They had to share every thought, every feeling. Their conversations over the past years can only be described as highly sophisticated. And these conversations boosted her writings. She wrote of topics about love for life, of redemption, of humanity, and of course, dancing. Everything was perfect. Until these past daemons, ones she had completely forgotten about, came back to haunt her.

“And you think that this made it alright?”  He shouted, palm slamming down on the table with a bang, causing everything to rattle. “You could have written poems, proses…. Anything! Anything but this!”

She hugged herself, trying to make her whole being smaller. “I’m sorry, Tom. Really, really sorry. I… I thought… I needed an audience.”

He said nothing. The silence was more terrible than the outburst. It was suffocating.

“Please, Tom. It’s all in the past. I cannot erase what had been done, but I have changed.” It was nearly unintelligible. Her voice was caught in her throat. “I was redeemed. I am still who you've came to know.”

Tom looked away. “Anyone else… Coming from everyone else, those writing would have flattered me. Fans, I cherish their devotion. I am thrilled, and touched, by their appreciation of my works. They expressed themselves in the highest form they can. They are endearing, but they're not what I wanted. But you… I thought you were different. You captured my attention with your purity, with your love for refined literate works, with the beauty you were able to conjure up, and with your intelligent insight of the world, of the science that I struggled so hard to understand. In my mind, you were the angel that walked the earth, the one girl who looked at me and see who I really am. It breaks my heart to have my visions thus shattered. I feel deceived. I cannot tell what was true with your words anymore. ‘Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.’ How will we ever achieve that now that I learned of this?”

“I speak nothing but the truth with you. Tom…” She reached her hand to him but he stood up as if he hadn’t seen it.

“Leave me be. I need a moment with myself.”

* * *

When Tom came in from the balcony, she was still in the wooden dinning chair, exactly where he had left her. Her knees pull close to her chest, she sobbed uncontrollably. He watched her for a moment before pulling another chair over, a well two feet away, to sit beside her. When she finally looked up, he had one elbow on the table, his large, tender hand on his brow.

“My love, I could forgive you, completely. And I will, in time. It is true that what you've done was a long time ago. And I do believe in redemption. Despite everything, there is no doubt I still love you. But, I must be honest, and I hope for your understanding, I can never see you as you were, not after knowing what you had inside of you. I cannot forget.” His eyes were softer now: sad, reproachful. And she knew. He is a violin. The stings fine-tuned and vibrated always in perfect harmony. Now she had gone and stretched the sensitive G string too tight and broke it. The sting may be replaced, but the songs they play will never be the same again.

This she told him.

And Tom listened in silence. When she finished, he gave a small smile. It was bitter, yet with a hint of apology. “Oh the canary produces the sweetest song even with her wings broken.”

He went away again. Moments later, he came back with a towel in his hand, wetted in warm water. Tom tilted her head gently with a finger. With the other hand, he reached to dabbed her tear-soaked cheeks with the soft towel. Before he could complete the action, however, she place her foot back on firm ground, leaned forward as his fingers fell from her chin, and tentatively circled her arms about his waist. He stilled for a moment before pulling her closer with his empty hand.

"I know." He replied to her unspoken words.

**Author's Note:**

> There were several moments in my mind when I wrote this:  
> 
> 
> * Freddie Page and Hester Collyer's dispute outside the clubhouse in the _Deep Blue Sea_.
> * Adam's disgust at the downfall of humanity in _Only Lovers Left Alive_.
> * Act V, Scene II of _Coriolanus_ , where Menenius pleaded in vain for Coriolanus to spare Rome, the later answered thus:  
>     "Wife, mother, child, I know not. My affairs  
>     Are servanted to others: though I owe  
>     My revenge properly, my remission lies  
>     In Volscian breasts. That we have been familiar,  
>     Ingrate forgetfulness shall poison, rather  
>     Than pity note how much.—Therefore be gone.  
>     Mine ears against your suits are stronger than  
>     Your gates against my force."
> * Loki's heartbreaking confrontation with Odin after his discovery of his heritage in _Thor_.
>   
>  \--  
> Thanks for reading, and many apologies for exploring such brutal topics. Please, if you have time, leave me some feedback about your thoughts. I'd love to hear them.


End file.
